


night cap

by helsinkibaby



Category: Justified
Genre: F/M, Het, Nightmares, PTSD, Porn Battle, Post canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Tim knows he's in the middle of a nightmare.





	night cap

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts from Porn Battle 15-Rachel-Brooks/Tim-Gutterson - nightmare,-burning

Tim knows he's in the middle of a nightmare but he can't wake up. 

He's on the roof of a building, bright blue sky above him, sandy roads below him and even in his dream he can smell the air that's unique to Over There, the unique aroma of people and cooking and spices that he can never forget. Along with the smells, the air is filled with the sound of bullets ricocheting off plaster walls, people shouting in pain, screaming in terror, bombs exploding in all directions. And then, closer, fresher, the smell of burning, the acrid scent of smoke curling around him as the crackle of flames gets closer and closer...

Then there is a voice, soft and familiar. "Tim... Tim... Wake up." 

He blinks and just like that he's back in Harlan, lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, that same soft voice by his side. "It's ok," Rachel is saying. "It was just a dream." 

He comes back to himself, back to her, slowly just like he always does. Eventually when his breathing returns to normal, he rolls his head to the side, meets her eyes. She gives him the tiniest of smiles and he lifts his arm. "Get over here," he says and she doesn't blink, just scoots over and presses her body against his - she never touches him when he's in the middle of a nightmare. She knows better, a lesson learned the very first time that it happened, when she put her hand on his chest to shake him awake and the first he'd been aware of it was when he'd flipped her onto her back, when his hands were holding her down - one on her shoulder, one on her neck - because in his dream, she was a rebel insurgent intent on killing him. Oh, she'd told him it was all right, that she understood but while her lips had said one thing, her eyes had said something else. She'd been shaken, badly, but not nearly as badly as he'd been. Coffee for a week hadn't been nearly enough to make up for it but theirs being a clandestine relationship he could do nothing else but hope like hell his demons hadn't just fucked everything up for him. 

Yet, despite his fears, despite hers, she still stayed with him. 

Which probably made him the luckiest S.O.B since Raylan Givens had walked the halls of Harlan County but Tim's not going to complain. 

Instead he concentrates on the feel of Rachel's head against his chest, of her body's warmth against his, of the way her palm feels as if rests over his heart. He can feel her breath against his chest, steady, even, not the least bit frightened and he matches his own to it, manages it surprisingly easily. 

"Same dream?" she asks him after a few moments and he nods, a quick jerk of his head downwards. It's all she ever asks him, all he'll ever give her in response. Not because he doesn't think she can handle it - he's seen her in the field, knows she's just as tough, if not tougher, than he is - but because for all the shit they see every day, his dreams, his experiences Over There, are a whole level beyond that, one he's tried very hard to leave behind him. He's got a new life now in Harlan, and he's starting to think he wouldn't mind her being a more permanent part of that, and he doesn't want to taint the new with the old. 

Or something like that. 

Rachel's hand moves, index finger tracing a pattern over his chest, up to his shoulder and back down. "Bourbon?" she offers and yes, sometimes it takes a night cap, the burn of whiskey warm in his stomach, to get him back to sleep. 

Sometimes it doesn't. 

"I'm good," he tells her and when he looks down at her, when she looks up in some surprise to meet his eyes, he manages a genuine smile. He reaches up with one hand, cups her cheek. "I've got you." 

Rachel chuckles at that and he knows from her expression that she's about an inch away from rolling her eyes. 

He kisses her before she can. 

He kisses her and she kisses him back and the taste of her against his lips does more to soothe him than the finest bourbon ever could. He gives himself a split second, no more, to feel guilty about that, like he's using her for his own purposes, but then she shifts against him, moves so that she's lying on top of him, his legs bracketing his hips. He knows that's her way of telling him without words that she wants this so he lets his hands settle on her hips, run up her back and down again as a different type of fire to his nightmare begins to consume them both. 

The scent of fire and cordite, still in his nostrils, is replaced by the scent of her, while the gunfire and explosions are replaced by whispers and gasps, the sound of his name falling from her lips. His eyes are transfixed on her as she moves above him, her hands braced on his chest and she doesn't break eye contact, doesn't blink until she's close, when her eyes flutter shut as she throws her head back. His hand moves between her legs, finds the exact right spot and then she's gone, shaking above him and he doesn't last long after her, her own name on his lips as he comes. 

Afterwards, she lies once more on his chest, his arms around her, holding her tightly as he drifts into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
